


The Donor

by took_skye



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, F/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 12:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16832965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/took_skye/pseuds/took_skye
Summary: “If you smell it, will you lose control?”





	The Donor

“It is because I’m a virgin?” The blood loss is getting to you, you go for another cookie.

Adam’s eyes hint at amusement; his lips balance between that and hunger. “Beg pardon?”

Lids flicker with heaviness, but you press on. “You said I have…‘the really good stuff’. Is that why?”

“What do you think?”

You think he knows, you think he wants you to think for yourself. “Maybe. If good is…pure or whatever.” Careful not to move your arm, you shift back up in the chair. “Not of soul or anything, but of…actual blood, you know?”

“Mmm…”

“No STDs, no drugs, no liquor.” You lean in. “Whaddya think?”

In a flash his hand goes to straighten your arm; your senses are too slow to react. “I think you’ve hit your limit.” His voice rolls like rocks at the bottom of a stream.

“Sorry.” Your body falls back.

He slips the IV catheter free and holds tight over the wound. “Can you handle it?” Because he can feel your heart thrumming under his thumb, how close the rest of you is; just a pull of the arm, a dip of the head, and he’ll have all of you.

“Yeah.” You sip cola before taking over. “If you smell it, will you lose control?”

He goes to work cleaning up, securing the donation and tucking it away for later. “Have I yet?”

“…No.” You check the pinprick, cover it again to be sure.

“Then I imagine you’re safe.” This time he does smile; at a job well-done, at the assurance he’ll not run out any time soon, at the way you nibble on cookies and cola without a care in the world. “And I’m not certain on the virgin theory, but the logic behind it is sound.”

You smile at the compliment, because it is one - an Adam one. Then a thought occurs, forcefully enough to wet your eyes. “You’ll bore with me when I’m not one anymore. You’ll get rid of me, turn me away or finish me off, won’t you.”

“No,” he asserts with a slump back into his chair.

“If my blood’s no good, neither am I.”

“If I only wanted your blood, I’d have just held you here and forced it from you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

He smiles. “No.” Confesses. “I wouldn’t have.” Such barbarous things were never quite in his nature. “Come here.”

“Promise you’ll not bore of me, Adam.”

“You’ll be the first to leave, I assure you.”

“Because I’ll die.”

“Perhaps.” He won’t sugarcoat things, not even for you. “Now…come here.”

There’s an insistence in his tone that compels you. Slowly, without full stability, you work your way around the table. You feel like a doll as he pulls you onto his lap. Forehead knocks his slightly, you smile. “Sorry.”

Adam brushes hair from your face, places hand over yours on the needle’s wound. He can smell the sugar from your mouth, the bits of chocolate melted onto your lips. He vaguely recalls sweets, but nothing compares to that really good stuff flowing in your veins. Head dips; he breathes in the essence of life as lips press to pulse-point. It’s a fight not to bury teeth, to settle for a flick of the tongue to get a hint of what’s underneath.

The rush of it, of him so close, breathing so heavy, hits hard. Dizziness takes hold and you fight the instinct to fall into him completely. You fail, breasts pressing into his chest, head draping over his shoulder, as you cling to the wild mane at the back of his head for stability.

“Relax.” He hums against the jugular. “You’ve given enough for tonight.”

You float into a sacrifice, spread out across the hardwood alter of his table.

“Shall I repay you?”

The words rumble your core, dampness tickles thighs, and you whimper. “Please.”

Something in the light glows up his eyes, flashes a hint of fang. His mouth dips into the hollow of your throat and he growls against your moan. You relax your hold as hands slip under sundress.

Your hands fall to the side, languish off the table along with legs bent at the knee. You focus on breathing, watch ceiling spin above you, before a gasp escapes at the feel of cool fingers walking up self-spreading legs.

Lips journey down the peaks and valleys of chest and stomach, hands peel panties from the wet-stick of your sex. He feels the twitch of you; body reacting to the slightest touch, chest rising and falling double-time, skin shivering. It’s almost shameful how much Adam enjoys your eagerness.

Only vaguely does the danger of it flit in your mind. Exposing yourself so openly, completely, to a creature like him - he could take it all, your very life. It causes a tremble that breaks in a shock of arousal through your veins.

A single passing of his finger across your clit causes such a release that the room fills with the scent of your arousal. He reminds himself he needs you, that beautiful crimson liquor inside you, in order to hold back from diving in with teeth bared.

If he wants you dead, so be it. You can’t fight him even if you want to…better to go out happy than in a terror there’s no need to have. You close eyes, melt between him and the table.

The first kiss is tender at the side of your knee, but soon lips open across your thigh, teasing and marking soft flesh. He repeats on the other side. Takes his time, indulges in the taste and smell of fast-overheating skin.

“Adam…”

Ears pick up the soft croon of his name between shaky breaths. He slips tongue out as lips hit the crease between thigh and sex. His moan is low, ravenous, as your really good stuff throbs in the hot pulse of your femoral. Just a small adjustment, a tiny tensing of jaw, and he’d have the heart of you draining into his mouth.

“More?”

“More.” You confirm as strong hands swing legs over his shoulders…the safety of space is gone, you’re utterly his to do with as he desires. As you desire.

Delicate fingers pad along your folds, slip between to collect juices, and you hear the man’s moan in his first taste. Fingers return to spread, expose, and you feel breath float a chill to your core. Tongue flattens across entry, draws up to clit, then stops at a point to flick. You curse, he growls.

Again…Again before finger encircles, teases, entrance without pressing in. He will not breach, not yet. His mouth envelops your sex, only to release into delicate kisses. Again…tongue taking long, slow, laps…Again…kisses turning harsh, coming with hard suck, so that he marks unblemished skin as his own.

Breaths go to gasps, muscles tense and relax with every touch, every taste, he makes. Skin swells, colors to aching red, under his greedy attention.

Adam hums at your clit, tongue slides down to collect all that flows from your depths. There are times, he swears, he can taste your purity; that sweetness of untainted honey.

The world spins even in the darkness of closed lids. You try to grip the table, but only manage to scratch the wood and then yourself as nails bury into skin.

The scent hits him as hard as that of your arousal. The really good stuff. Pure and raw and leaking out from the palms of your hands as he feasts on your cunt.

“More?” You beg, arching into his mouth, his tongue, as it teasingly collects your desire.

“More.” He confirms; tongue finally dipping inside just a fraction.

A fraction that has you crying, biting lip, and digging nails in farther. “Ah-Adam…” The table shakes with you as tongue laps up to throbbing clit, as it teases, flicks, and presses in.

His finger is slow, deliberate, in entry. The fight your body gives at the intrusion has him humming, then moaning as it yields to instinctive desire. Long glide in, long glide out, long glide in…

“Ah-ah…” Back and hips work of their own accord as initial discomfort melts into purest pleasures. Finger explores, finds those spots that can make you scream, as his tongue grows unrelenting. “Mo-Mo…” More. You want more.

Second finger and your tightness is truly revealed. In the whimpers from your lips, the flutters of your walls, and how your cunt clenches his digits. Your floods coast down to his wrist. Barely touched and already so…ready.

Tongue moves faster than thought, than instinct, and whatever you meant to scream is lost in a garble of arousal. You arch as if possessed, shudder without control, and tears pour out…

Adam’s mouth slips back to that hot spot between sex and thigh once more. He can hear your hammering heart beneath the pants and moans and skin so flushed you look alight to him.

Floods pour from you, hips snap into his fingers disregarding pain and danger and any sense of reason.

Teeth seize upon your innermost thigh until he senses the barrier break. He pushes in farther, until buried, and you release the really good stuff.

It all pours from you in orgasm. Arousal, desire, tears, blood. Life. All of it. Always a willing donor, but now a dangerously eager one. You fill him over and over, let him taste all of you, even as existence itself spins beyond your control.

Beyond his control as he gluts and groans at your self-made virgin sacrifice to him.

You sigh when lights dim from within and smile, satisfied, as they go out.

**Author's Note:**

> I liked playing with the myth of virginal blood - how it’s preferred by vampires, etc - and adding some science-based logic to it. Also I’m leaving the ultimate fate of the reader up to you.


End file.
